Good Girl
by maedayblake
Summary: Bellamy stumbles across his former high school classmate, Clarke, online. The two begin chatting and develop an unexpectedly intimate new connection. (Let's not mess around. This is a very... mature story because the chemistry between those characters is FIRE, and if I can't get my kicks on the show, I can most certainly live them out through FF. Smutty, smut, smut, y'all.)
1. Questions

They had known each other years ago and were high school acquaintances at best. She had one memory that lingered when she thought of him, and it wasn't particularly clear. Something about a Science class and earthquakes. He was building something and laughing with his lab partner. Clarke remembered his charming smile and dark hair, but not much else. When he'd found her again years later, sent her a message, she was at a strange, unsettled point in life, questioning the future, questioning past choices. Bellamy's presence was like a breath of fresh air. He was energetic, open, and sincere, qualities Clarke didn't realize she had been craving. He brought a sense calm to her frantic thoughts.

At some point, their long conversations started to include a game they called "Questions." Someone would start, and a slew of questions and answers would pour from them both. It was an intriguing way to discover each other's quirks: her anxiety over trusting new people, his desire to feel strong. Her avoidance-baking a slew of muffins instead of doing paperwork, his strength-training away dark moods and frustrations. They formed a strange, virtual bond that they both appreciated and desired more of. This bond was possibly the reason "Questions" took an interesting turn one evening. Suddenly sex was the topic of choice, beginning with a question Bellamy had about general, female preferences. It wasn't the same as text-fucking, as he liked to call it. They were just having literal, almost clinical conversations about anatomy, likes and dislikes, generalizations about each gender, and wonderings over past encounters. That level of openness was difficult for Clarke as she always feared revealing herself to anyone, but Bellamy was patient and understanding, pushing her to reveal new information only when she was ready to share. This connection began a new level of intimacy neither of them was expecting or prepared for.

Clarke could not quite pinpoint the moment it happened, but on some occasion during one of their many talks, she realized she was turned on. Extremely, uncomfortably turned on. She felt badly for it, almost as if it was a betrayal to this friendship they were building, and so she decided to ignore her body. She crossed her legs, tried to take calming breaths, and reminded herself that having Bellamy in her life was really a privilege. Not many women had a trusted male friend to ask embarrassing, intimate, graphic, sexual questions. Clarke's pulse kicked up a notch just thinking about the things she could say to him. How would he respond if the conversation suddenly became less academic? She shook her head, scolding herself for letting fantasy interfere with such a valuable friendship. As casually as possible, Clarke made excuses and signed off for the night.

Unfortunately, this internal battle wasn't easily won, especially on the night Bellamy told her that sometimes he tried to imagine what her voice sounded like when they talked online. She found her mind was again wandering: Did he imagine other things about her? Did his voice become rough when they talked about sex? Would they be attracted to one another were they to finally meet again in person? What would his mouth feel like on hers? How would it feel to have his hands traveling her body? She mentally slammed the door shut on that line of thinking. Openness be damned, she kept these questions to herself, and gave him the most casual response she could muster at the moment. She was not going to be the one to mess this up.

In spite of Clarke's self-control, and her now constant sexual musings, Bellamy was actually the first to reveal something was changing between them. Clarke was telling the story of a wild night in college when she'd had her first threesome, and in the midst of the tale, Bellamy messaged one unexpected, friendship-altering line: "You're making me hard, Clarke." And any of the friendly balance Clarke had been trying to maintain went right out the window.

She gasped aloud and jerked her hands away from the keyboard. She was making Bellamy hard? He was turned on listening to what she had tried to make a very boring recanting of her crazy college days. Apparently she wasn't the only one affected by these long, very open discussions. Refusing to think too deeply into what she was about to do, Clarke responded to Bellamy's statement with total honesty. "I've been wet the last few times we talked. I can't help it." She waited for his response, breath pent up in her lungs.

 _Bellamy: Sometimes I stare at your mouth in your profile picture._

 _Clarke: My mouth?_

 _Bellamy: I love when you wear red lipstick. Your mouth looks fuckable. It makes me want to slide my cock between your perfect lips._

Clarke froze, panting. She couldn't believe Bellamy had just said that. "I have a fuckable mouth," she said aloud, touching the soft skin of her lips, tracing the curves of her mouth. Knowing just the sight of her mouth could make Bellamy hard, made her lips feel suddenly sensitive, swollen. She bit her full lower lip, testing. Her tongue slipped to the corner of her mouth, tasting. She glanced back at the screen re-reading what Bellamy had just said and her pussy clenched imagining what he was describing. She slipped a hand up to cup her breast, sliding her thumb across her hardening nipple. She groaned beginning to lose herself in the fantasy of having Bellamy's hand touching her, when the messaging tone sounded again on her computer. She'd completely lost track of time and had left Bellamy waiting for her response for almost two minutes, an eternity in the virtual world.

 _Bellamy: I'm really sorry. I know I shouldn't have said that. I've been thinking it for weeks and we're always so open... Every time we talk about sex I imagine what you're describing. I didn't want to keep it to myself any longer, but I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable._

Clarke couldn't help smiling. That was so like Bellamy to make sure he hadn't upset her. Far from it, in fact. She grinned again thinking about how immediately turned on she had become. His comment had left her feeling bold.

 _Clarke: Do you want a picture?_

 _Bellamy: Sorry, what? You're okay with what I said?_

 _Clarke: Bellamy, do you want a picture?_

 _Bellamy: A picture of what?_

 _Clarke: Of my very, very fuckable mouth._

 _Bellamy: Jesus, Clarke…_

 _Clarke: Is that a yes?_

 _Bellamy: Yes. Absolutely, yes. Send me a picture._

Clarke had never sent an even remotely naughty picture to someone before. The idea sent a thrill through her body. She was giddy to know Bellamy's reaction. She grabbed the lipstick off her dresser and painted her full lips a bright, strawberry red, just as he had described. Using her phone camera, she tilted the lens down to focus on her mouth. One click, and she checked the image and smiled. She had unknowingly included a very clear view of her cleavage, hardly contained by her simple cotton nightgown. She evaluated the focal point of the shot, and decided to take another picture, this time with her lips parted as if she was waiting for Bellamy to feed her his cock, just as he had fantasized. That was the shot she sent to him. And the immediate, thrilling panic that raced through her veins had Clarke scurrying to disconnect from the conversation.

 _Clarke: Enjoy. I'm off to bed!_

And with that, she signed off, tingling with adrenaline over what she had just done, incredibly turned on thinking of what Bellamy's reaction might be. Bellamy, however, wasn't about to let her get away with a fleeting goodbye. The text tone of her phone sounded.

 _Bellamy: This is the sexiest picture I've ever seen. I can't stop looking at the way your red lips are parted._

Clarke felt her face flushing with pride.

 _Bellamy: I have to know, how big are those beautiful tits?_

 _Clarke: DD_

 _Bellamy: I want to fuck them, too. I want to fuck them right after I make you take every inch of my big cock into that sexy, full mouth._

Clarke couldn't breathe. The way he was talking to her, it had never been like this before. And the idea of Bellamy telling her what to do, God that was amazingly sexy. She hadn't even known she liked that kind of thing until this moment. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear him commanding her, almost feel the velvety skin of his cock sliding along her lower lip. She crossed her legs trying to quell the growing ache between her thighs. She wanted to talk to him in the same gritty, erotic way he spoke to her. She wanted him to be as hard as she was wet. She wanted to be _Bad_ with him. She took a breath and began to type her exact fantasy.

 _Clarke: I want to taste your big, hard cock. I want to feel it sliding between my lips, smearing my lipstick with each thrust. What else would you make me do?_

 _Bellamy: Tell me what you're wearing._

 _Clarke: Just the nightgown in the picture._

 _Bellamy: No panties?_

 _Clarke: No._

 _Bellamy: Perfect. I want you to touch your pussy, right now. You only get one finger and you only get to rub your clit for the next ten seconds. 10…_

Gasping, Clarke hastily shoved her hand down to her pussy. She let that one precious finger delve into the unimaginable wetness Bellamy had caused. The first brush of her finger across her clit made her jerk and moan. She rubbed it again, amazed at how close she already was to cumming. She rubbed again and again, hips thrusting with each pass. The text tone sounded again.

 _Bellamy: …2, 1. Stop, Clarke._

Panting, she dragged her finger away.

 _Bellamy: Did you stop playing when I told you to?_

 _Clarke: Yes, I stopped._

 _Bellamy: Good girl._

Clarke couldn't help groaning again.

 _Clarke: That's so hot when you tell me I'm a good girl. Say it again. Please._

 _Bellamy: Good girl. Now, tell me what your sweet little pussy feels like._

 _Clarke: It's so hot and wet. I've never been this wet before. I'm dripping, and my clit is so, so sensitive. Those ten seconds made my whole body light up. I feel like I could cum just from talking to you._

 _Bellamy: Fuck. I wish I was there. I want to watch you cum for me. There are so many wicked things I want to do to that luscious body._

Her face turned hot. Clarke was so thoroughly aroused right now that she would succumb to anything Bellamy asked of her. Letting Bellamy decide how he would use her body, where he wanted to cum, it was all part of a fantasy she never knew she wanted.

 _Clarke: Oh god. Please. Anything._

 _Bellamy: I'm going to fuck you every way I've imagined these last few weeks. I want to hear you moan my name and lose control while I'm buried deep inside of you. Do you want that, Clarke?_

Jesus Christ, she could barely breathe.

 _Clarke: Yes. God, yes. I want to feel every inch._

 _Bellamy: I know you do. You're going to love every moment, Princess. Now be a good girl and get some sleep._

Clarke let out a disgruntled huff. He couldn't just send her off to bed like this. She was drenched and throbbing with need. And apparently, Bellamy new that.

 _Bellamy: Do NOT touch that beautiful wet cunt. That is all mine._

 _Clarke: But…_

 _Bellamy: Don't worry, Clarke. I always take care of what's mine._

Clarke choked out a laugh. Bellamy just might be the filthiest, most delicious man in the world.

 _Clarke: I'm going to hold you to that. Good night, Bellamy._

 _Bellamy: Good night, Princess._

Clarke locked her phone and tossed it aside. She couldn't help the delighted squeal that escaped her mouth as she covered her face with her hands. What the hell had just happened between them? She was so unbelievably aroused. It was agonizing, and the hottest damn thing she had ever experienced. Bellamy had just text-fucked her and despite being more turned on than she could ever remember being, she was also absolutely going to play along with this little game. Why not, right?

Clarke flopped back onto her bed, tugging down the material of her nightgown so she wasn't tempted. She resisted the urge to further torture herself by re-reading their conversation, and eventually fell asleep wondering when she would get to see Bellamy.

She woke up the next day to a new text.

 _Bellamy: That was quite the evening. Let's continue where we left off. I want to take you out tonight. How does 8pm sound?_

Clarke couldn't help the grin that spread across her face.

 _Clarke: Sounds perfect._

So they'd finally see each other again. Clarke could feel her muscles tensing up in anticipation. Would they be as attracted to each other in person? What the hell was she going to wear? Would he touch her right way or would that come later? Better question, would she cum later? She groaned and had to laugh at herself. Oh, yes, a plan was beginning to form in her mind. Tonight, Clarke would make herself irresistible to Bellamy, and get exactly what she wanted


	2. Hi

The knock sounded promptly at 8pm. Clarke took one last look in the mirror, checking her very red lipstick and adjusting her blue wrap dress to make sure her breasts, covered in nothing but the fabric of the dress, were tastefully, but temptingly displayed. A moment of devious inspiration had her pinching her nipples for a hopefully stunning effect. With a deep breath, she smoothed the loose curls in her blonde hair, crossed the room, and opened the door.

There was Bellamy, as handsome as she remembered in dark jeans and a black leather jacket, a slow smile spreading across his face, his eyes widening as he took in her appearance. She couldn't help grinning when she saw his eyes linger on her visibly hard nipples and red lips. "Hi," he said roughly, clearing his throat. "Hi," Clarke replied.

"You look amazing."

"I try." And he laughed at that. Clarke blushed, enjoying his response to her quip, and stepped back from the door, to gesture him inside. "Do you want to come in for a drink?" Bellamy shook his head, stepping through the doorway. "Let's just—"

"Oh!" Misinterpreting Bellamy's movements, Clarke had gone in for a hug as Bellamy was stepping in to take her arm to escort her. The resulting collision had her clutching at him to keep her balance, effectively pressing their bodies together in something far more intimate than a hug between old friends. Clarke's breath caught as she realized one of his arms was circling her waist while the other had braced their weight against the wall. She could smell cologne and the leather of his jacket as he straightened and dropped his hands to her hips.

"Do you, um…" She swallowed hard when he let his thumbs travel up her ribcage stopping halfway. Clarke stared at him seeing a question in his eyes. She could feel the heat of his skin burning through the thin material, causing her nipples to tighten into even harder points against her dress. "Do you want…" Bellamy's thumbs dragged up her ribs to rest just shy of her breasts, and her brain short-circuited. His breath was hot on her neck as he leaned into her. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Clarke Griffin, right now, all I want to do is tear this dress off of your gorgeous body and take you in front of that open door until you scream for your neighbors." Clarke couldn't help but whimper at the thought. "Would you like that?" She nodded leaning her head back against the wall and trapping her bottom lip with her teeth. Bellamy groaned, "Good girl," and ran his thumb over her bitten lip. She opened her eyes to find him watching her and lightly nipped at the pad of his thumb causing the brown of his eyes to somehow deepen.

"Need something, Princess?"

Before she could overthink it, Clarke tipped her chin up and pressed her lips to his. A thrill ran through her body at the fast intake of his breath. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but the impact it had on both of them was clear. He pulled back to look at her, cheeks lightly flushed. His hand left her waist to tangle in the curls at the base of her head, and he tugged, testing her response. Clarke let out a breathy, "Again." And caution disappeared.

With another tug of her hair, Bellamy dove for her mouth in a consuming kiss. She heard him groan as her tongue boldly met his, and he stroked into her mouth again and again as his hand angled her head to press closer. She gripped at his jacket and slid her hands inside to stroke the hard muscles of his back through the thin cotton of his shirt. Bellamy's mouth dropped to her neck, and Clarke moaned at the clenching in her belly. His teeth scraped at her pulse point, and she "Mmm-ed" low in her throat.

Clarke's back arched of its own accord when he filled his hands with the weight of each of her breasts, lightly fanning his thumbs over her nipples as they hardened once again. She felt a rush of wetness between her legs and gripped the lapels of his jacket trying to drag him closer. Her lips sought contact again, and this time it was Clarke who deepened the kiss. His hips pressed her back to the wall in a move that caused them both to gasp. The heat of his body was intoxicating. But just when she began convincing herself that actually having sex with him in the open doorway would be totally fine, sanity won out. She tore her mouth from his, and he dropped a firm grip on her hips and pressed her away from him against the wall. Their panting breaths mingling when he dropped his forehead down to hers. Clarke felt like the floor might drop from beneath her feet at any moment. Thoughts and desires fired through her mind in a flurry. She wanted his mouth on hers again. Badly. There was a very strong possibility that she'd just become addicted to kissing Bellamy Blake.

Wide-eyed, she pushed lightly against his shoulders. She needed some breathing room. He stepped back with a look that mirrored her own amazed expression.

"Clarke—"

"Bellamy—"

They couldn't help but laugh, stumbling over each other's attempts to break the tense silence. Clarke huffed out a little breath causing Bellamy to smile. It would seem that neither of them were sure what to do with this.

"Well," Bellamy said, clearing his throat for the second time that night, "Let's go to dinner, Princess." He held out his hand to her, and Clarke did her best not to stumble as they left the apartment.


	3. The Movie

**Here be kinky, graphic smut. If it will offend your delicate sensibilities, please do not read it. Or, if kinky, graphic smut is your jam, enjoy the hell out of it. Whichever you prefer. Tah.**

In a bizarre turn of events, dinner was completely mellow and amiable. Bellamy cracked jokes, Clarke talked about her dreams of traveling, and no one was inappropriately touched. If Clarke hadn't needed to fix her smeared lipstick after the interlude in the apartment, she might have thought she had dreamed it all. By the end of her second glass of wine, Clarke was in fact completely confused as to what that whole exchange had even been about. Was that just to wrap up the conversation from the night before? What if all the spiking pulses and achingly sensitive body parts had been one-sided? Ugh. Clarke tried to dismiss it all in order to appear nonchalant. Regardless of what had or had not happened, it was really nice to see her friend after all this time. Bellamy. Her friend. Friend, friend, friend. Friend, despite the fact that every time he glanced at her mouth, she was hoping he'd stare. She made sure to bite her lip, but he seemed perfectly content to listen to her talk. The bastard.

When dinner was over, Bellamy was a perfect gentlemen and gave her his jacket to ward of the chill of the night air. This hid Clarke's thoughtfully displayed cleavage from his view, much to her dismay. Her plan and this dress were not working the way she'd hoped.

They continued to chat as they walked to the theatre, and when they arrived, Bellamy chose whatever the latest action film was. Clarke, who had a nice buzz going from the wine, was looking forward to something exciting and mindless after being almost exhaustingly on edge since earlier that night.

They entered the show as the previews were rolling, but the theatre was practically empty with only three or four people sitting in the far right and front sections. Bellamy chose two seats near the back wall, and Clarke was glad she wouldn't have to fumble around in the dark to find a seat closer to the front. She handed his jacket back with a quiet "thank you" as they sat down and the movie began.

Twenty minutes in, Clarke noticed Bellamy was staring at her. More specifically he was staring at her breasts. She fought to contain her smirk. Maybe the dress was working after all. She chose that exact moment to stretch, arching her back and jutting her chest forward. Bellamy glanced up at her face, and leaned close. "You're distracting me from the movie, Princess." Clarke feigned ignorance, and with wide eyes, pointed to her chest and mouthed, "Me?" as if the thought had never occurred to her. "All night, I've wanted to press you against every available wall, so I could hear you moan and mess up that pretty red mouth of yours again."

Oh my—definitely not one-sided, Clarke thought.

"This dress is killing me," he continued, tugging at the material on her shoulder. Clarke laughed quietly and swatted his hand away. "Somehow," she whispered, "I don't think I can do much about that right now."

She jolted when she felt Bellamy begin to trace the hem of her dress against her thigh. He breath fans the curls close to her ear, and he sucked the lobe into his hot mouth. His voice had taken on a gruff quality that made her shiver. "Do you want to play a game, Clarke?"

"But," she licked her suddenly dry lips, "We're watching a movie."

"We can do both. I want to play with that gorgeous body. If I tell you to do something, will you do as I say?"

And there was that fantasy from last night: the one she never knew she'd had before. The one where Bellamy took control to bring them both pleasure. The one where he commanded her to do things for him. God, just thinking of the possibilities made her pulse jump as her body grew warmer. She wanted to know what it could be like, so she nodded.

"Good girl. Now," he kissed her jawline, "We both know you're not wearing a bra under your lovely blue dress." She shook her head, staring at his mouth as he continued. "I want you to pull the front of your dress down and take out your tits for me." Clarke's jaw dropped as she sharply inhaled. He couldn't be serious. She met his hungry stare with wide eyes. Oh, fuck. He was very, very serious. She couldn't actually do this, right? It was so shockingly inappropriate to even think about. They were in public. Anyone could see.

The idea made her instantly wet.

An unexpected thrill zipped through her body as she made her decision. With one last dark look from Bellamy, Clarke slid trembling fingers down the V in the front of her dress, stopping at the tops of her breasts. She could feel her breasts tingling in anticipation. She quickly glanced around the theatre, making sure everyone was focused on the movie, and then, with a deep breath, she slowly pulled the material aside and down, bracketing her breasts with blue fabric, and exposing herself to Bellamy's gaze. She waited, her breasts moving with each shaking breath, for his hands to cup her again, to play with her nipples, but all she received was a very satisfied smile as he raked his gaze over her naked chest. She bit her lip, waiting, watching him, but all he said was, "You're missing the movie, Princess. Why don't you sit back and enjoy the show?" Clarke swallowed and dutifully sat back in her chair in anticipation of his next move.

But a minute ticked by, and then another, and Bellamy made no move to touch her. Clarke's legs began to shake. Someone could walk past them at any moment, and she was sitting here practically naked from the waist up. She was starting to feel foolish and began to shift, pulling at the material when Bellamy suddenly hissed in her ear. "Stop moving." She stopped immediately. "I was going to just enjoy my beautiful view, but it's obvious you're feeling a little impatient." Clarke's hands bunched the fabric of her skirt expectantly. "So, here's what is going to happen, Princess." She held her breath as he continued. "I want you to play with your tits until I tell you to stop. Play with those pretty pink nipples for me so they're nice and hard. Do whatever feels good. And…" Oh, god, what else? "… I want you to moan for me while you do it. Do you understand?"

Clarke immediately started to shake her head, absolutely scandalized at his request. "Bellamy, someone will hear me. We'll be thrown out!"

Seeing her obvious nervousness, Bellamy grabbed his jacket, draped it over her nakedness, and gentled his tone of voice. "This is your choice, Clarke. I won't make you do anything you don't want to, and although we might take some risks, I won't put you in danger of any kind. If you want to play along, I'm more than happy to continue. If you decide you don't want to play anymore, then we'll continue on our date as before and watch the movie. I will enjoy being with you either way, alright?" She released a breath and nodded. Feeling moderately calmer, she considered what she wanted her role to be in all of this. She was safe with Bellamy. She knew he would take care of her, and the idea of being told what to do was an immense turn on she wanted to explore. It would seem her decision was made. She slid the jacket off, noticing with delight that his breath caught at the site of her, and then she uttered a single word. "Yes."

"Fuck." He swore. "Good girl. Now, moan for me, Princess." Clarke released one shuddering breath, and lifted her hands to cup her breasts. At the first brush of her thumbs over her nipples, she clenched her thighs together. She pinched her nipples and then rolled each between her thumb and forefinger, arching her back as the pleasure shot straight to her clit. A quiet moan escaped her lips, and she quickly glanced around to see if anyone had heard her over the dialogue of the film, but everyone was too far away to notice them. Bellamy's eyes were trained on the movements of her hands, so with a thrilling amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins, she continued.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back and turned her face toward Bellamy, so he could hear her pleasure. She continued to manipulate her breasts and tightening nipples until she was squirming in the seat, breathing heavily. She was getting too worked up, too quickly, and her moans would be audible to the other patrons in the theatre if he didn't let her stop soon. She could feel the wetness seeping from her pussy and started to cross her legs, when Bellamy's hand pressed her knee. "Oh no, I want your legs spread wide for me while you play." And with that, he hooked one left leg over his right leg. Clarke watched as Bellamy surveyed his work and tried to imagine what he saw. Clarke's hand were cupping her naked breasts, her legs spread as wide as the theatre seats would allow, the skirt of her dress hiked up high enough to just barely cover her aching center, and her red-lipped mouth was open and panting. "You look so fucking sexy, Princess. I wish I had a picture of this to keep with the one you sent me last night. Are you wet for me?" Clarke bit her lip. "Let's find out."

Oh, holy shit. Clarke's hands dropped to the armrests, gripping hard as Bellamy slid a finger slowly up her thigh. When he was almost to the hem of her dress he stopped with a quiet chuckle. "Ohh, Princess, your panties must be soaked. Even your thighs are wet." Clarke attempted to bring her legs back together, almost embarrassed for him to find out exactly how turned on she really was.

"Are you trying to hide from me, Princess?" Clarke shook her head, not sure how to respond. Bellamy sat back folding his hands in his lap. "No? Then, show me. Stand up."

Clarke was panicking. If she stood up, someone would definitely notice. She would be caught, exposed to everyone in the theatre. They'd be thrown out, and she'd be humiliated or worse, arrested.

And then she remembered what Bellamy had told her. This was her choice, and he would take care of her. She knew that Bellamy had given her the order to stand as a test. She wanted to meet his challenge. She wanted him to see how wet she was and know it was because of him. She had no other choice but to stand.

Clarke unhooked her leg from over his and stood in the space in front of their shared armrest, the hem of her skirt dropping around her knees. Bellamy glanced around them and toward the other patrons to make sure they were still engrossed in the movie, and nodded.

"Now, put your foot right here," Bellamy said motioning to the armrest on his far side. She placed her foot where he directed, effectively positioning her skirt-covered center in front of Bellamy's face. "Show me those soaking wet panties, Clarke." She moved slowly, hoping she was not attracting any attention, and grasped the hem of her skirt as the movie entered a battle scene. Explosions erupted throughout the theatre, but all Clarke could focus on was the blood pounding in her ears.

She heard Bellamy hold his breath as she revealed her trembling thighs. She knew he could see the shine of her juices smeared across her skin; a brand of her arousal for him. With one final whispered, "Oh god," Clarke fully lifted the front of her skirt all the way up to her hips. Bellamy's breath exploded from his chest as he took in the site of Clarke's completely bare, visibly wet pussy spread before him.

"Oh fuck, you didn't wear panties. Jesus Christ." He stared at her pussy for a moment longer, dragging his hand through his hair, and licking his lips. "I have to…" In one swift motion Bellamy's hands gripped Clarke's ass pulling her forward to his mouth. He licked deeply into her slit, gliding up to suck her engorged clit into his hot mouth. She slapped her hand over her mouth and gasped out a barely contained moan as he slid two fingers into her clenching hole. Clarke tangled her other hand in Bellamy's hair forcing his face tightly against the place she needed him most. Her body thrust in time with his fingers as he began a fast assault on her pussy, his tongue flicking back and forth across her clit as he sucked her into his mouth. The explosions of the movie barely covered her moans as she began a whispered chant, pleading. "Please, please, Bellamy. Oh god, I'm so close. Please. Oh god, oh god, oh god." He slowed his ministrations, placed a searing kiss on her clit, and withdrew his fingers from her still-gyrating body. She looked down at him with desperation in her eyes, and he sat forward in his seat dragging her down to straddle his lap. Clarke gasped out loud as she watched him lick his fingers clean of her juices, and then their mouths collided. His thrust his tongue against her own making Clarke taste the wetness of her pussy, and she released a tortured moan into his mouth.

She ground her pussy down feeling the long, thick length of Bellamy's cock through his jeans. He thrust up against her, groaning into her mouth, the seam of his pants rubbing hard against her clit causing her to whimper over and over. With a fist in her hair, he pulled her head back while his other hand held her hips in place for the thrusting of his rock hard erection. "You're so ready for me, aren't you, baby? I could feel you clenching around my fingers." Bellamy was practically growling in her ear as she tried to stay quiet. "Your cunt is so fucking delicious. I want to make you cum in mouth again and again. Would you like that, Clarke?" She nodded, his filthy words bring her closer to the edge. He snaked a hand down to massage her ass, spreading her more as he thrust up hard against her. "I'm gonna fuck this hungry cunt until your whole body is too blissed out to move. Are you close, Princess? Do you want to come?" Clarke frantically nodded her head, putting a hand to her breast, giving a high pitched "uh, uh, uh" with every thrust. "Fuck, yes. Touch yourself. Make yourself come for me, Clarke."

And those exact words were the ones that sent her over the edge. She couldn't stop it. His words, the feel of his cock grinding against her wet, swollen sex, his hand forcing her hips down over and over, the hours of waiting. It was too much, and she came hard, head thrown back, gasping and whispering his name, one hand twisting her nipple, the other hand gripping Bellamy's shoulder. She felt her body shuddering again and again as he panted under her, watching her fall apart.

It was only when the pleasure down-graded to tremors that she realized the battle scene in the movie had ended. She started to take in her surroundings again only to realize the theatre was far quieter now than when they had started this process. Bellamy was glanced around the theatre. Oh god, had everyone heard her?

Clarke jumped up and wildly pulled at her dress to cover her nakedness. Bellamy stood with her trying to calm her movements, but she skirted his reach and made her way to the door of the theatre. He immediately followed quietly calling her name as she took off down the main hallway of the building toward the parking lot.


End file.
